ISLA~
I had been standing there for almost ten minutes before the show even started.
Half-hidden behind the production crew, arms crossed, I watched her through the gap between two camera rigs. I had practiced the apology three different ways in the car. Discarded all three. Nothing sounded right when I said it out loud to an empty backseat.
I had the gift sitting in my coat pocket the entire time. Small. Stupid, probably. The kind of thing that meant nothing on its own, but everything if she actually looked at me when I gave it to her.
I was working out how to start.
I'm sorry— felt too small. I shouldn't have said what I said— felt like an excuse dressed up as an apology.
I came here to apologize. To swallow my pride, hand her the gift, and admit that vanishing was the wrong move.
I watched her sit there in that pristine white suit, looking flawless and perfectly composed. She was handling Marlene Cross like a professional. I felt a familiar, stupid swell of pride.
